Lost and Found
by mpjl03
Summary: He finds him self without a name. Without a memory of his past life. He’s lost, and there’s no one there to find him. Spoilers for S1. My version of what happened after the bomb. Includes Claude, Peter, Noah, Claire, Hiro, Mohinder, Molly, and others.
1. Chapter 1

November 6, 2007

Cold. He could feel the cold of an unusually chilly November morning sink into his body. The wind was calm but a bitter cold still swept through, leaving his ears pink with cold. He wondered if he would get frostbite.

He had only just arrived in New York. He had been all across the country in the short span of only 10 months. He had visited Chicago where the wind was heavier than it was here. He had gone through Idaho, Utah, Oregon, Colorado and Nevada to end up in California. He had never liked the beach so he traveled to Texas. He liked Texas for some unknown reason. It reminded him of something…or someone. But he couldn't remember.

His last stop before New York had been Washington DC. He had liked it there too. There was something about the men in suits, the white buildings, and everything he seemed to like but couldn't remember why. He stood out among the crowd of senators and congressman. He had jeans and a t-shirt and a dark coat that didn't fit with the cleat cut men of Washington. Not to mention his dark, messy hair and scruffy beard and mustache. He must look homeless to them. Maybe he was homeless.

New York was different though. It was cold, but it felt like home. He found his feet leading him down streets. He was heading toward an apartment building. Maybe it was his? He didn't know. He was wandering around aimlessly, his road trip being the only memory he had.

---

"_I found him lying on the street. I hope he's ok. Poor thing," an old woman said softly. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a hospital, as far as he could tell. He barley had enough strength to open his eyelids. He looked to his left and saw an old woman speaking to a nurse outside his open door. The nurse looked his way, looking surprised._

"_I think he's awake!" she said coming over. The old woman followed._

"_Hello?" the nurse said speaking to him. He just fluttered his eyes, trying to move his mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. He felt pain all through out his body. He noticed a cast on his leg and he looked for more ailments. He moved his hand slowly, rubbing his forehead. There was a bandage rapped around his head._

"_Where…where am I?" he whispered slowly, meeting the nurse's gaze. Just then the doctor came in, holding his clipboard._

"_You are at St. James' Memorial Hospital," the doctor answered. He looked at the clipboard and turned to the nurse._

"_Where?" he asked again. He was confused and his head was throbbing._

"_Hartford, Connecticut, Mr…" the doctor looked at him expectedly. The patient didn't answer. _

"_Sir, what is your name?" The nurse said kindly. He looked at her. He thought about it then stopped. It hurt to much and nothing was coming. _

"_I..don't…I don't remember," he answered truthfully. He looked at the old woman curiously. He didn't know who she was or why she was staring at him with such worry._

"_Who are you?" he asked. The old lady smiled._

"_Mrs. Harper found you and brought you here," the doctor said. Mrs. Harper nodded._

"_How long have I been out?" he asked._

"_Two weeks," The doctor said. He turned to Mrs. Harper "If you don't mind ma'am, I need to speak with the patient in private."_

"_No, it's fine. I just came to see if he was ok," Mrs. Harper left. She gave him a wry smile and then she left._

"_Now, you say you don't remember your name. Can you remember anything?" The doctor said. He tried to think again but nothing came to him. It was like his mind was an empty slate. There was nothing to remember; No one to remember._

"_Oh. Then it seems you have an acute case of amnesia," the doctor said. He looked up at the doctor, still feeling the pain in his head._

"_No one's come to see me, beside Mrs. Harper," he said. He was feeling weak. His voice was barley a whisper._

"_No, I'm sorry. We weren't able to find a wallet on you so we are still unsure of who you are and who to contact," the doctor said. He looked up at the ceiling, wondering if he even had a family at all. Maybe one day he would remember. But today wasn't that day._

---

It sill wasn't that day. And after 2 months of rest and therapy, he was admitted from the hospital. He had chosen a new alias for himself. He was now James Austen. He had never liked it when he was called John Doe in the hospital. So they gave him the name James instead. He still wasn't sure it was his real name, but it was better than John.

Maybe New York would help him bring back memories. Connecticut certainly didn't. He didn't remember anything there. And to this day, he still didn't know how he ended up lying in the street. He was beaten and bruised, and had even suffered some burns. It had all healed now, except for the scar on his forehead.

He headed down the street, hoping he had enough cash to buy a pretzel. He was wearing a suit when he found them, so he wasn't homeless like he had first thought. In fact, there was tons of money in the pockets, just no ID. That was the only way he could afford traveling the country, searching for his identity.

He searched his pocket, found a dollar and bought a pretzel. It was warm, what he needed during this chilly day. He looked at the posters on the side of the buildings as he passed. He saw one was torn slightly, another poster lay behind it. He turned around to see if anyone was looking. The streets were empty considering it was 10 AM on a Wednesday. So he peeled the poster slowly, but before he could get past the words "Vote", he heard someone speak behind him.

"Defacing public property, huh?" he said. James turned around to see a man staring at him. He was wearing an old sweater and jacket and his messy, dirty blonde hair told James that he wasn't going to reprimand him. His blue eyes twinkled with laughter.

"I just wanted to see the poster," James said. He didn't know why he was explaining himself to this man.

"That's alright mate. You're new around here aren't you?" he said in his obvious British twang.

"Yeah, is it that obvious," James said.

"Don't worry, I'll show you the ropes. And you are?" he said, his eyes still twinkling.

"James. And you?" he said. He didn't know where this boldness suddenly came from. Maybe he had always been this bold?

"Claude. C'mon mate!' he said. This time he was really laughing. And James smiled for the first time he could remember.


	2. Chapter 2

---

"Now, how long have you been in the city?" Claude asked eagerly. He was leading James along the street, and James followed blindly. He didn't know who this man was, or why he was so interested in him. Maybe he was going to rob him? He thought suddenly. Well he didn't have much on him. It wouldn't be the worst case scenario.

"I just came in last night," James answered. Claude nodded.

"Good," he said then he looked at James. He finally noticed his thick beard, his noticeable scar, and shabby clothing.

"You alright mate?" he asked. James wanted to ask him the same thing. He wasn't much better off than he was.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice a little cold. Claude grinned anyway. They kept walking, passed people swiftly. And James followed, because he had nothing better to do. He could have run before, but now he knew it was too late. They heard a loud jet in the sky and James looked up to see the private plane wiz by. Claude noticed he looked up and said loudly.

"Oh those damn planes. Fly right on top of traffic," he shook his head in disapproval. But James hadn't noticed. He had stopped walking on the word fly. His head hurt, but he heard something. It was a voice, a memory.

_Tell you what, you think you can fly, why don't you jump off the Brooklyn Bridge? See what happens._

"What…" Claude said, not bothering to finish his sentence. James held onto his head, until the pain stopped. Then he looked at Claude, his mind racing. He had said fly and it had triggered his first memory. Had he said that to someone? Or had someone told him that? The sentence was strange enough. Who in their right mind think they can fly?

"I…I have to go," James stammered. His heart was beating fast. He was excited. Maybe New York had been where he lived. He now knew that he had to find them. Someone, anyone who knew who he was.

"Wait!" Claude yelled but James had already walked swiftly down the street. Claude sighed. He wasn't cut out for this. He walked up the apartment steps until he landed at 4D. He knocked on the door and waited. A girl opened it up. She smiled at him.

"Come in. They're inside," she said. He smiled and followed her into the living room, where he glanced at the surrounding quickly. There was Claire, sitting on the couch, reading a book and Hiro and Ando playing a game of Candy Land, which amused Claude to no end. The little girl, Molly, sat down next to the little boy, Micah. They seemed to be playing chess, a more advanced game then Candy Land. Claude looked around and noticed the two people he had really come to see.

"Claude. How'd it go? Did you find anyone?" Noah Bennet asked, staightening out his glasses and looking up from the computer. The man behind the computer, Mohinder Suresh, stood up as well.

"Oh yeah I found someone. This thing works nicely," He handed over the gadget that had been concealed in his jacket. It had been recently invented by Mohinder with the help of Bennet. It was a tracker, but it worked diffrently from Molly's power. Molly could only track certain people. Give her a name and she could pinpoint them. They device could detect people who were special, but had not been found yet or were overlooked by the list.

"Where is he? Did you tell him?" Mohinder asked. He had made his father's research his life's work, and apparently everyone else's. He and Noah worked together to track people before they were tracked down by the Company. And there was still the looming threat of Sylar. They had thought he was dead, but rumours of his return had surfaced and another brutal murder forced them to realize they were dealing with him again.

"You see. I brought him here but I didn't get the chance to tell him," Claude said, taking a seat on the armchair next to the couch Claire was lounging on. He liked Suresh's new apartment. It was bigger, it gave them more room to work and more room for Molly to play in. Claude had grown fond of both Micah and Molly ever since Bennet had found him and recuited him to help them. He would have thought that Peter would have found him…but he didn't.

"What's the name?" Mohinder asked, poising himself to type.

"Didn't get a last name. I got the name James though," Claude said. Mohinder looked through his database.

"Well 50 names popped up. Could you narrow the search to New York," Mohinder asked Claude.

"You could. He said he wasn't from around here but I could tell he was lying. He knew where he was going," Claude pointed out. Mohinder typed in the new information and looked at his results.

"I got 4," Mohinder said.

"Yeah, but you never know, this guy might not be on that list," Claude explained. Mohinder and Bennet looked at each other, both thinking Claude was right.

"Well, do you think you can find him again?" Mohinder said. "Or maybe Molly? Do you think you can find him?"

"I need a last name too, or I won't know which person to think of," Molly said, looking up from the chess game. Claude noticed that Claire, Hiro, and Ando were listening in on the conversation while pretending to be distracted.

"Maybe Ando and I can find this, person?" Hiro asked. His English had improved immensly over the past year.

"You can try. Look, he's not the hard to miss. He's got a scruffy beard, his clothes are a bit shabby and a scar right across his forehead," Claude said.

"Sounds like you without the scar," Claire said. Hiro, Ando, Molly and Micah chuckled. Even Mohinder and Bennet couldn't help cracking a grin.

"Ha ha, very funny," Claude said. Even he was smiling.

"Well, if Ando and Hiro are up for the chase…," Mohinder started. Claude thought for a moment and then stopped.

"Maybe we should wait and see what Peter thinks," he said. They all stared at him, in shock and confusion.

"I don't think Peter's in the best state to make descions now," Bennet said. Claire looked up and Claude saw the crestffallen expression in her eyes. He sighed.

"Fine, then let me do it. I was just saying, this guy seems like someone Peter could handle," Claude argued.

"Let Claude track him then, Hiro and I will do the next one," Ando said. He could sense there was something troubling Claude.

"Thanks mate," he said and Ando nodded.

"When I find him, I'll let you know," Claude said. He got up, waved goodbye and exited the apartment, wondering if he'll ever be able to find James again.


	3. Chapter 3

---

James walked fast along the street, not caring that he was bumping into people. He needed to sit down, to think about this new found memory. He saw a bar across the street and ran quickly into it. He sat down at one of the booths in the back, hoping no one would disturb him. He need to calm down, to really think about the situation.

The bar was fairly empty, save for one man sitting on a stool in the front. He was downing a beer, but it wasn't his first one. It seemed to be his third, judging by the empty bottles on the counter. James looked at the clock; it was only noon. This man must be having a rough time, James thought.

Then the man turned around, as though he had heard James. I'm being paranoid, he can't hear me, James thought again. Again the man turned around. James looked at his face for a split second. He looked young, too young to be an alcoholic. But he didn't have enough time to look at his face, before he ran out of the bar. James didn't want to be around here anymore. This guy seemed nuts.

---

Peter Petrelli sighed and went back to his beer. He had heard the thoughts. They had sounded familiar, but Peter hadn't really played attention. He downed the rest of the beer in one gulp. The alcohol affected him, let him worry less about the realities of life. He didn't want to be anyone's hero anymore.

"Another," he said to the barkeeper. He looked at Peter sadly, cleaning out a mug.

"Sorry son. Can't serve you any more til 4," he said. He pitied him, Peter knew it, but he didn't care.

"Fine," Peter said. He threw his money on the counter and left the bar, to be met by a blast of cold wind. He shuddered and kept walking, until he reached his building. He saw Claude as he exited the door, and he hid in the shadows. He didn't want to deal with Claude right now. He headed up the stairs and found the door to Mohinder and Molly's apartment was open. He passed it and headed into this own apartment.

---

Claire heard the scraping of keys from next door and knew Peter was home. She put her book down and got up.

"I'm going out for a bit," she said to no one in particular. Everyone was absorbed in their work and play to notice or say bye. She headed out slowly, catching the door before it closed completely. She let herself in and Peter saw her.

"Claire, what are you doing here?" he said. His voice was cold and distant. Claire knew what that meant.

"You've been drinking again, haven't you?" she asked, anger rising in her voice. Peter couldn't face her. He just stared out the window, not meeting her gaze.

"Haven't you?" she repeated, her voice even angrier. Peter finally met her gaze. He took a swig of the glass of water on the counter and then spoke.

"It's none of you business," he spat. Claire was taken aback, but she recovered.

"It is my business. I'm your family Peter," she said, her voice softer, sadder.

"No you're not!" he yelled. His eyes were blazing and his voice was rising. "My mother is out hunting us and my brother is dead! I have no one!"

"You're not the only one who lost a family member that night Peter. Remember, Nathan was my father," Claire said. She never called Nathan her father, but she had to persuade Peter to calm down.

"You didn't love him. Heck, you didn't even like him!" Peter said, the anger rising higher in his voice. Claire didn't know how to respond. She took a deep breath and said quietly

"You know you still have people who care for you," she pleaded.

"I DON"T HAVE ANYONE!" Peter roared. He was out of control, stressed out and not in control of his powers. Suddenly, the glass on the counter shattered. Pieces shot out across the room. One hit Claire on the shoulder. Peter's face fell, his expression anxious, worried.

"Claire, I'm so sorry! I didn't…I couldn't control it," Peter said. He walked towards her and she moved back.

"I'm sorry I bothered," she said bitterly. She took the glass out and walked out the door slowly. She was almost out when she turned around to face him.

"Don't think you're alone Peter. You're not," she said and she left. Her face gave him chills. It was a pleading look of sadness, but there was still and icy glare in her eyes. Her face haunted him and didn't leave him, even in sleep.

---

He was stronger now. He was ready to fight. He wasn't going to be defeated again. No, this time he would destroy him. He had gained new powers. Thanks to the illusionist and others, he would be unstoppable. He would be the most powerful of them all with his renewed strength. It hadn't been easy, regaining his strength. It had taken him months before he was able to regain his powers. But now he was in control of all of them. And he was ready to use them on Peter Petrelli.

---

James found himself back where he started. It was night time now, dark, but he was on the same street where he had met Claude. He saw the poster he ripped. He saw the word "Vote" and he looked around to see if anyone was watching. He peeled a little more of the paper to reveal the word "Petrelli" under it. He ripped it harder, to see the rest of the poster. But he ripped too hard and he ripped it in half. He tried to put it back but there was no use, the picture couldn't be seen.

James sighed and walked slowly down the street. He was heading nowhere. He had nowhere to go, no one to see. He was beginning to regret leaving Claude. At least he would have had company. But no one in New York seemed to recognize him. They noticed the beard and scar, but they didn't see him. The doctor in Connecticut had said that he might look different from what he had looked before. He had been badly burned and bruised. But he wished someone would come and tell him that he had a family and that they were waiting for him.

He came across the corner and heard shouts in the distant. A man with a black ski mask raced towards him. James could hear people chasing after him. The man panicked and dumped one of the two bags he had in his hand at James's feet. Then he sprinted in the other direction. James didn't have time to comprehend what had happened before the men chasing the thief were in front of him. Well, it was a man and a woman.

"We've caught him," the woman said taking out her handcuffs. James looked around in shock.

"No wait! I didn't do this!" he said.

"Yeah, and that's why you've been running. You've hit all the biggest banks in the city, but you slipped up this time. Did you really think taking off your mask would work?" the woman said coldly.

"I'm telling you the truth! That man, the one you're chasing, he dropped this bag and ran," James said frantically.

"Cuff him Parkman," the woman said, not believing him. She had had enough of this. She used to be an FBI, she was one of the best. She didn't like being a plain clothes policeman. She longed for her power position again. But she couldn't trust anyone there anymore. And being in New York was the safest for herself and Matt.

"Please, you've got to believe me," James pleaded. Matt looked at Audrey and they both looked back at him. He didn't look anything like the man they were looking for. Audrey was so eager to arrest that she hadn't looked at him at all.

"Fine, let him go. But you have to tell us which way he went," Audrey said. James pointed in the direction he saw the thief run.

"It's too late now Audrey. He's probably gone by now. We won't be able to catch him," Matt said sighing.

"You can go," Audrey said.

"Thank you," James said and he walked away. Matt turned to Audrey.

"Did that guy seem familiar to you?" he asked her. Audrey shrugged.

"I don't know. I might have seen his face somewhere," she said. She looked at Matt and he stared back.

"Yeah," Matt said. There was something about his face that he couldn't remember, couldn't think of. Maybe it would come to him. Or maybe he didn't know this man at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN - Finally a new chapter! Enjoy the changes I've made to accomadate the Season 2 storyline into my own version of Season 2.**

November 10, 2007

Hiro Nakamura had never felt loss like this. He was standing, numb with shock, after receiving the new that his father had passed away last night. But he hadn't just passed, he was murdered. Pushed off a building, no less.

Matt was the one to break the news. He and Audrey came to Hiro and Ando's bachelor pad, only a few hours ago. No one had seen it happened. It was over in a matter of minutes. And now the aftermath had to be dealt with.

Ando had firmly persuaded Hiro not to go back. After what happened to Charlie, he believed death was not one to be messed with, even if it was hard loss to those who had the power to fix it. After input from Matt and Mohinder, Hiro had decided it was for the best. He would not go back in time to save his father.

But the thought of his killer still loomed ominously in his mind. There was someone out there who was responsible. Justice needed to be served, this man had to be punished. And Hiro knew it was his job to find the culprit. It was up to him to avenge his father, and be a real hero.

----

Angela Petrelli was not used to disappointment. All her life, she had gotten what she wanted, resorting by any means necessary. Whether she was 10 and stealing sweets and blaming it on her brother or 20 and seducing her husband into marrying her instead of his fiancée, Angela always managed to get exactly what she wanted. So hearing news that they still had not tracked down her son was something Angela Petrelli didn't understand.

"Are you sure?" she asked, glaring into the bearer of bad news. Angela was sitting in her usual position, behind the desk that had once belong to a Mr. Thompson only a year ago. It was November, yet Odessa, Texas was a bright, sunny 65 degrees.

"Mrs. Petrelli, we searched his old apartment and we checked the mansion and his buddy Suresh's apartment too, and we couldn't find a thing," a short, female voice said. She stood her ground, returning a glare right back to her boss. She wasn't going to take shit from anyone, as Angela knew quite well. Angela sighed.

"Fine, you may go," she said and the short blonde dropped something on her desk.

"Here's the paper," she said, smiling in an utterly fake way. Then she turned on her heels and left. Angela picked up the paper, opening its cover. As she did, a small, scarp of paper fell out of it, but Angela took no notice. She was too busy staring at the headline of the New York Times, her eyes widening.

"Head of Yamagato Industries Dead After Freak Accident"

She read on, words like "mystery", "no suspects" and "roof" jumping out at her. She scanned the pictures, staring at the lifeless body of the man she had known for so long. It chilled her to see the blood splatterd around him as he lay motionless on the ground. Angela stood up quickly, and she noticed what had fallen. It was a small scrap of a picture, her picture, with a single helix drawn on top in red ink. She froze, realizing pure terror for the first time in her life.

She was next.

-----

James stumbled into another bar, hoping maybe this would be a good haven for now. He sat down on a stool, wondering if he should just give up. No one knew who he was here. And though he thought at first that that man Claude might have known who he was, now he wasn't so sure if he even existed. He had spent a year with no one looking for him. No family or friends. He was probably a homeless man, his beard and scars would go well with that image. But hadn't he been wearing a suit when he was found? How could he have been deserted like that? He must have some money or importance, right?

He sighed and picked up a menu. He was starved and running low on cash. Maybe a nice veggie sandwich would do the trick. Hopefully with some zucchini. James had no idea why he loved zucchini so much, but it was something that made him feel like a person. He probably always loved zucchini. It was his trademark among friends and family. Still smiling, he looked up as the waitress crossed over to take his order.

"Hi, what can I get you?" she said. She was a pretty red-headed girl, probably around 20 or so. James gave her a charismatic smile.

"Well this sandwich looks fantastic," he said pointing to the menu.

"Great choice," she said. She flashed him a smile back and headed back to the bar to place the order. James watched her, and saw her talking to a blonde woman, also by the bar. She looked to only be in her mid 30s, but she also looked tired and weary, as though she had been though a lot in a short amount of time. She chatted to his waitress and James noticed that she also happened to have on the same black apron tied around her waist.

His waitress talked and talked and then she looked over toward James. The blonde followed her lead. James quickly looked at his menu. He didn't want them to think he was looking at him. When he thought their eyes were off him, he turned back. The blonde woman hadn't looked away. She looked at his straight in the eyes and he could see she looked confused and….he couldn't place it, but she looked, familiar. It was almost like he could hear her voice. It was echoing in his head:

_Oh, my God. Look at this view. Everything looks so pretty when you're up high._

How had he heard that? That wasn't his voice, but was it hers. James didn't want to find out. He was cracking up, that had to be it. He put his coat on a headed out quickly, ignoring the waitress's shouts:

"Sir! You didn't even eat yet!"

Niki Sanders watched the man leave with a puzzled and slightly put out look. She was being silly. There was no such thing as ghosts.

--------

Noah Bennet had grown accustomed to the New York lifestyle. Ever since he moved his family here nearly 11 months ago, he had been happy in knowing that this huge city could cover them fairly well. It was hard to find people among the crowd and the every day hustle and bustle.

His family blended in as best they can. Sandra and Lyle were finally informed of Claire's and his own secret. After many arguments and blow outs, life had become as comfortable as it possibly could be for the Bennets.

Claire was making friends and finally embracing her power rather than rejecting it. Her new best friend, West, was special, like her. He was just what Claire needed, a friend and companion she could rely on. Someone who understood what she was going through and could make her feel like a normal teenager. Noah had taken a liking to the boy, and he was welcome to the Bennet household at any time.

So as Noah sat in his study, contemplating his computer screen, he wondered how recent developments would affect Claire and all those like her. People were bound to find out sooner or later, and after what happened to Kaito Nakamura only yesterday. Isaac Mendez had painted this. His paintings held the key to what was going on.

Noah wondered if it had to do with the original 12. It was an old fear that still haunted him. But with Charles, Anthony, Daniel, and now Kaito dead, who's to say he wouldn't be next. Noah was not afraid of death, not remotely. What he cared about was his wife, and son and daughter. How could they deal with the loss of their father and husband?

He shook those thoughts out of his head. He wasn't going to die. At least, not yet.


End file.
